


magic madness heaven sin

by sumaru



Series: this is a state of grace [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Archer Kageyama Tobio, Canon Crossover, Demon Oikawa Tooru, Final Haikyuu Quest, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oikage Day, Olympics, Post-Canon, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17366363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru/pseuds/sumaru
Summary: Kageyama’s hands are the same in this world.“I don’t know what you want from me,” Kageyama looks up as he tucks in the end of the bandage. “But I’ll help you today. We don’t start tryouts until after tomorrow.” The blue of his eyes is piercing, unclouded. “But I won’t call you Oikawa-san.”Everything about him is so painfully like the demon king's own Kageyama from long ago.And the demon king misses him.Tokyo is poised breathless for the Olympic Games. But when Oikawa doesn't make the cut for team tryouts and Kageyama does, it's like every feeling he's been holding onto for years comes undone.And that's when they run into the archer prince on a desperate hunt for the demon king.





	magic madness heaven sin

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Oikage New Year!
> 
> Just trying to make 9/1/19 work, as you do.

 

 

 

The demon king sits in the ruined hall of his white castle.

And the demon king waits. 

Shadows crawl up the stone walls. They splash against the legs of his iron throne like ink; living darkness he had summoned when he had burned the summer trees to ash. All the prophecies spoke of a hero who would rise like the sun and banish all his shadows to the sea, but the prophecies had also spoken of a spring that blooms green and trembling and new again and— honestly, he’s had enough of the death-grip of prophecies to last him a thousand lifetimes. They’re all so musty and old, and who actually _needs_ them when he could claw his way to a fate of his own choosing, right here in the comfort of his own home.

And so the demon king waits.

The sun rises. The sun sets. Golden shadows have grown long into midnight when his dearest archer prince finally breaches the grand hall’s broken doors with a weary push. About time. The demon king was starting to hunger.

“You’re late, Tobio-chan!” The demon king has both legs thrown over one of the throne’s arms. A white-clawed hand waves a greeting. “I see you haven’t become a great hero yet! I’m _extremely_ disappointed. Someone like me should be killed by at least a five-star hero. Fancy armour, big sword, none of this third-rate archer stuff.”

“I don’t need to be,” Kageyama growls. Living thorns are still writhing their way through the tatters of his cape trying to reach the heart; the demon king had meant for the journey to kill him. “It doesn’t matter who does it. In the end, demons all die the same way.”

The demon king’s legs are long and the white leather of his tall boots glimmer in the moonlight; a chilling bone white like the sharp smear of a smile he turns on Kageyama. But Kageyama is relentless, taking the grand hall’s steps two at a time — still absolutely abysmal at reading the mood in the room. Trampling sentiment under his stupid ugly brown boots. But there’s something of the rising sun in him, a glow that sits on his shoulders despite the twisting shadows. So an actual hero had given Kageyama everything he needs, then.

“You were such a little brat, once.” The demon king sneers as he plants his feet. Kageyama has grown so tall and he knows by the time Kageyama reaches the top steps he’ll tower. The idea of having to look up at Kageyama twists a knot hard and infuriated inside him. “Still are! But much larger now, so much more bratty. I should cut you down to size. Little Tobio-chan pieces I can keep under my bed where he won’t bother me anymore!”

Shadows pull up from the walls and whirl around the demon king’s hand; an abyss at his command that strikes.

That _scatters_ into ash before they could bring him Kageyama’s heart.

A leaf-green stone hangs from Kageyama’s throat and a sun-stone at his breast. They radiate gently in the gloom, a summer sun weaving through the deep green wood even here in the dark; magical shields against demon madness. He didn't even have to draw bow or arrow.

“I made Iwaizumi-san a promise. I’ve come to finish what you started.”

The demon king’s heart grows black. “Traitors! Both of you! You think your little trinkets are enough?”

“Traitors never win.” Kageyama pulls a silver arrow from his quiver. More quietly, “I used to be afraid of you. But I also used to believe in you, Tooru-san.”

Oh, so Tobio-chan still has the nerve to say his name, does he? “You stupid, impertinent prince-chan! Do you really think you can kill me? The only way to kill me is—”

The arrow tip is poised at Kageyama’s wrist, ready to bite. Fear and grief seizes the demon king in equal measure. “Don’t you dare—”

Kageyama’s eyes are steel.

“It’s rude to return gifts! Don’t you _dare_ leave me, too—”

The demon king wraps his shadows around himself. He’s spent a lifetime knowing what that look in Kageyama’s eyes always means; he’s spent a lifetime chasing it off. So what’s another lifetime more?

Once upon a time, the white spires of a castle rose proudly from these leaf-green hills, the fathomless blue of a lake lapping at its shore.

And the demon king closes his eyes to Kageyama, and sinks, and drowns, and dies.

 

 

*

 

 

Summer sticks to Oikawa like a bad habit. The cicada are electric in the trees, vivid in his bones every time his feet hits the pavement of the little path that snakes through the park; but even the lull of the late August sun can’t sweat away the black cloud that’s been hanging over him.

Tobio should be jogging here at his side. And yet.

Mornings aren’t _his_. It’s always been Tobio rising with the sun like he was born to it, and then it became habit for him, too. Tobio clattering at the sink at terrible o’clock in the morning. Tobio making him a cup of black coffee. Tobio looking at him like wants to ask him if he has time for extra serving practice. Tobio this. Tobio that.

Oikawa wants to scream.

The entire city of Tokyo has been poised breathless for the Olympics and Oikawa had graduated from Chuo University right into the thick of it. Immediately scooped up by the Panasonic Panthers for the upcoming off-season. But it was an impossible feeling of frustration — just a little too early to be slotted for the national team, just a little too late to be invited to tryout camp. But _Tobio_. Tobio in his second year at Chuo University right there beside him, soaking up everything Oikawa had worked so tirelessly to perfect under his captaincy— Oikawa grinds his teeth so hard he’s sure he’s breaking at least five beauty routine rules.

A plain white envelope sits on the counter in their shared dorm. Oikawa knows what it says — Miya Atsumu had dropped by, grin flickering a thousand watts, just to make sure Oikawa knew exactly who _Tobio-kun_ will be looking to for guidance at the Team Japan tryouts. He’s not sure which outcome is worse: that Tobio might just make the cut, or that Tobio won’t.

The path dips sharply and Oikawa takes the turn at extra speed, digs his heels into the dirt like he’s trying to kill it. Maybe if he runs fast enough he’ll wake up in the new year and this bad dream will have passed. And maybe he hadn’t grown up as much as he thought he had afterall. Oikawa hadn’t even had the grace to throw a good luck at Tobio before Miya had whisked him off to the train station, arm slung casually across Tobio’s shoulders like it already belongs there, like they’re already walking out onto the court together.

 _I made that place at Tobio’s side._ Oikawa’s breath rattles painfully in his mouth. Better to bury the feeling before it buries him.

“Tooru-san! Stop!”

Wait?

What?

And wasn’t Tobio supposed to be on a train to somewhere?

A branch slaps Oikawa in the face and the cicadas are shouting too loud, an angry buzzing under the close canopy of dark green trees. Shadows are crawling even in the full August sun and Oikawa suddenly feels nothing but ice prickling his skin. “Tobio-chan! That’s creepy! You can’t just stalk people in the park like that!”

Movement like a quick on the court.

And then his back hits the ground in a painful, whirling haze. Rough hands pin his shoulders to the ground. 

Oikawa had always known how much Tobio weighs — it’s just a captain thing. Numbers he tallies in the back of his mind. And if he was being completely honest with himself, this wasn’t exactly the fun and flirty scenario he had also tallied in the back of his mind for finding out what all that weight means.

“You can’t run forever!” Tobio’s eyes are storming. 

Dirt grinds into the back of Oikawa’s old Aoba Johsai t-shirt; the stain will stick and he’ll have to finally throw it out. The empty feeling of losing something that’s been around for so long snaps angry and quick in his throat. “It’s a park, idiot! It’s meant for running in!”

Tobio frowns. There’s something weighed in his eyes.

A swift kick against Tobio’s legs doesn’t even move him one bit, but Tobio grunts in surprise. Petty satisfaction cools the tightening in Oikawa’s lungs. “Annoying, too heavy Tobio-chan! Why are you even here anyway! And get off of me right now or— or I’ll—”

“What?”

Oikawa finally frees a hand and pushes it into Tobio’s face. “So rude!” His lungs are burning, but not that kind of burn anymore. Tobio’s weight is warm and heavy across his hips as he squirms.

Maybe this _is_ a little fun and flirty afterall.

“Where are you horns!”

“My what?” Oikawa stops pushing and that’s when the entirety of this ridiculous situation drops leaden right into his stomach — the unseasonal paleness of Tobio’s skin, the red raw scar that slashes his mouth. Bewilderment that borders on something painful writ large across Tobio’s face.

“Your—”

“What happened to you?” He can’t help but touch Tobio’s mouth. His fingers tremble against the lower lip. The scar looks awful. “Did— did you get into a fight with Miya? I hope you won!”

The bewilderment, the pain: it all flattens sharply, shutters Tobio’s face completely. “Miya-san is dead. You should know that. You personally made sure all the fox spirits were wiped out.”

Horns? Fox spirits? _Dead?_

“Alright, that’s about my limit for Tobio-chan designer brand nonsense for today. You are going to _get off_ of me.” He’s using his captain voice now, hopes it’s enough as he glares right into that unsettlingly familiar, all-too-unfamiliar face. “And we are going to sit on that bench over there like two civilised human beings, and you are going to tell me _exactly what is going on_.”

Captain voice never fails. Tobio sits down. And Tobio tells him.

Oikawa should have noticed the white linen pants and tight black shirt were altogether off-brand for his own Tobio. The jewellery dangling at his throat. Since when did his Tobio wear jewellery anyway? Maybe Oikawa had been looking for so long he’s forgotten what he’d been looking at this entire time. The feeling of it sticks uncomfortable inside his chest.

“So he used his magic to escape here and now I have to find him.” Kageyama’s face is blank but Oikawa still can’t shake the feeling that he’s being hunted. “And I have to finish this. I can’t go home until it’s done because I made a promise.”

“Doesn’t matter where I am, does it? Iwa-chan will always be there to give me a hard time!” He tries to laugh, but it skitters uneasily off his tongue.

“Iwaizumi-san…” Something dark gathers on Kageyama’s brow. “He still believes you— the demon king can be saved. That there’s good in you. But he wasn’t there to see you laugh as you ripped the foxes from their shrine.”

Oikawa swallows thickly. He makes a silent promise to buy Miya a drink next time he sees him. “Do you believe that, too? That he can be saved?”

“I don’t know anymore.” It’s so quiet even the sun seems to dim.

But even in this familiar place made completely unfamiliar, the dirt path they’ve both run together so many countless times with the promise of a golden summer at their backs that they could lead each other blind through the park, even with this strange and pale and sad Kageyama sitting just a little taller than him — something about them rings so true and real in Oikawa, and he knows.

He knows himself, and slowly, gently, startlingly, he has come to know Tobio, too.

“But you _want_ to believe in him, don’t you?”

“I do, Tooru-san.” Sunlight dapples the trees golden and sparks a brazen focus utterly familiar in this Kageyama’s eyes. 

Heat floods Oikawa’s cheeks. His run has caught up to him and his throat goes dry. “Alright, that’s enough of that! You’ll call me Oikawa-san like a good little kouhai and I don’t want to hear otherwise!”

“Right.”

“And we’re going to get you changed into normal people clothes! You got dropped right into my lap, so something tells me your demon king will be just as easy to find. But I don’t want to walk around with— with _this!_ ”

“... Right?”

“And if you’re especially good Oikawa-san will maybe even treat you!”

Kageyama doesn’t smile but he sits up a little straighter. “Thank you for your help.”

“Thank me by— how are you taller than me? That’s so rude, Tobio-chan! Be smaller!” Oikawa huffs, pushing down playfully on Kageyama’s shoulders. He wonders what this Kageyama’s laugh sounds like. 

“That’s.” A deep breath. The leaves haunt deep green shadows across Kageyama’s eyes. “That’s what he said to me, too.”

 

 

*

 

 

It takes more than silver to kill the demon king, but it _hurts_.

His shadows have no power here. Even nestled under the cool green shade of a cypress growing along a little stream, there’s still too much sunlight, hot and terrible and scouring away all the magic he had managed to hide in his shadow heart.

And so he bleeds.

When he gingerly touches the raw meat of his wound, where Kageyama’s silver arrow had clawed desperately into his side before he could magic himself away fast enough, it’s a red blood — a human’s blood. The demon king’s temper flares just as vicious and crimson.

“I am going to _eat_ him. I am going to eat his _heart_. I am going to eat him _whole_. I’m going to send him back to the crows in—”

“Is someone—?” Pebbles clatter underfoot. Someone is running on the path that cuts across the water. “ _Oikawa-san?_ ”

Maybe fate does work in his favour sometimes.

The demon king swipes out a claw and it snags the fabric of Kageyama’s loose grey pants, tripping him right into the grass. He could make quick work of Kageyama, if he wanted to, and _oh_ , he wants to. Just his claws could strip all the gifts that had been given to Kageyama long ago, when the demon king had been young and foolish enough to think Kageyama wouldn’t bend to the heavy hand of any prophecy. When the demon king was young and foolish enough to believe that his spring would bloom again.

If his shadows had no power here, neither would the protections that Iwa-chan and the insufferable little shrimp had woven into him.

And yet. 

“Oikawa-san, you’re here.” Breathless and pleased, even as the demon king’s claws cage Kageyama’s soft, fresh cheeks. Has this world made him even stupider? “I wanted to—” Blue eyes lock onto him. There’s that familiar frown again, that beautiful mouth flattening out to a line.

Kageyama’s mouth.

Something bursts inside the demon king’s heart. He yanks Kageyama closer. “Where’s your scar, Tobio-chan?”

Kageyama’s eyes drop immediately to his knee.

“The one on your _mouth_. The kiss I gave you.” The demon king hisses. “Or did my dearest little prince-chan forget?”

He watches the thoughts slot together behind Kageyama’s eyes — the sweep of his hair where the ivory spired horns glow, the smooth leather of his tall boots, the red blood soaking into the greedy earth. No, Kageyama didn’t forget. This was something new, too.

“You’re not Oikawa-san.” Something panicked flickers in Tobio’s eyes and he instinctively pulls back before thinking better of the claws latching into his skin. “Not really him. So who are you?”

“I might not be your Oikawa-san, but I can see this Tobio-chan is just as rude and thoughtless as mine!” The demon king pouts. Tobio might not know him, but _he_ absolutely remembers this untested boy all too well. “What if I’m dying? Would you leave your Oikawa-san to die like this?”

“There’s compression bandages.” Tobio swallows. The demon king watches the gentle bob of his throat in delight; it’s been awhile since he’s tasted that young fear and he regrets he can’t save it for later. “In my pack. You can probably use those until we get back.”

The demon king’s smile is all teeth. “Be a good boy and do it for me.”

Tobio’s hands are the same in this world. Long, strong fingers. Assured movements, gentle even, as they alight on his torn skin and slowly roll the bandage around his waist. The demon king can feel Tobio shuffling apprehensively as he kneels between his legs, but the look on his face is of intense focus on the task, singular and whole.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Tobio looks up as he tucks in the end of the bandage. “But I’ll help you today. We don’t start tryouts until after tomorrow.” The blue of his eyes is piercing, unclouded. “But I won’t call you Oikawa-san.”

Everything about him is so painfully like the demon king's own Kageyama from long ago.

And the demon king misses him.

The human blood in his demon heart rushes all of a sudden, dizzying, electrifying. What did his human heart once want? He had wanted to stand on top of the world. He had wanted so many things that fate had said weren’t his to have — a season of spring that blooms fierce and free; the throne of a white castle nestled in the green hills; a magic so clean and pure it might as well be spun air on the tip of a bird’s wing. But stripped of his shadows, the demon king feels suddenly too naked under Tobio’s gaze. He scrunches up his nose, tips it away so he doesn’t have to feel its burn.

“Hmph! Tooru, then. Like you used to.” Once upon a time.

Tobio freezes in the demon king’s lap. “Tooru-san?” Pink spills hot and flush down his throat as he works the name free.

“Just Tooru!” Oh, he can get used to this. This tempting pink, this tempting heart.

“Tooru… Tooru-san,” Tobio mutters, finally looking away. “Do you play volleyball?

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was actually trying to write this for 1/1/19 so I could include another special guest appearance Oikawa but I didn't have a plot that wasn't just a Kageyama pile-on, so. Here we are instead.
> 
> Second part will be posted ehhh next week. Thanks for reading!


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